Childe speaks and repeats that he would never hurt his subordinates, it’s not like him. He’s not the type to fight, hurt, or humiliate those weaker than him.

His word was not restricted to you. But he didn’t really hurt you, did he? Tartaglia’s poor secretary. You’re always working around, running, one way and the other. Whereas the harbinger’s job felt more like just being himself, being a troublemaker.

“Oops, are you dizzy? Don’t fall, come on.” Childe hums, holding your shoulders. A light laugh escapes his lips. You fell for the silly excuse that you deserved to rest, that he wanted you to spend time with him.

His face softens when he looks at you. Seeing you like this... Looking uncomfortable, with your breathing staggered, Tartaglia feels a little sorry... Just not enough to regret it.